A Week In Serbia
by Pidraya
Summary: Gibbs and Jenny Shepard get stranded in Serbia during a mission - while Decker and Petrov set something in motion. A story from 1999.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes:**

_**Uri**_ .. I just saw your review to the last story and wanted to address your question here. I chose Kosovo because in _Season 3_, Jenny and Gibbs talk about a week spent in a farmhouse in Serbia during a mission in 1999. It made sense to me to have the military strikes ongoing at the time as a backdrop. That said, I hope that nothing I write will upset you. Or come across as disrespectful. Please let me know if anything I write is insensitive. Clearly that would never be my intention. I would have written all of this to you in a private message, but since you are not signed in I cannot. So I hope you will see this.**  
**

Washington D.C. is six hours behind Serbia.

The original _Fiat Cinquecento_ was a particularly small car, whereas the _Zastava Florida _(which Gibbs and Jenny are using in this chapter) was a five door hatchback made by Serbian automaker _Zastava_. It was introduced in 1987 and produced until 2008.

Ljubenić is a village in the western part of Kosovo. On April 1st, 1999, it was the scene of a massacre by Serbian police.

On April 6th, 1999, _NATO_ had its first major mishap. Missiles hit a residential neighborhood in the mining town of _Aleksinac _(in central Serbia)_, _killing several civilians and injuring many others.

* * *

_**The outskirts of Novi Pazar, Serbia**_

_**April 6th, 1999**_

_**0600**_

Gibbs shrugged off an internal shudder as his mind revisited the warehouse where he'd been exposed to Beryllium a few months earlier. One look at Jen told him that her thoughts were in the same place, so before the conversation could steer itself there, he put a smile on his face and said, "still do those keg things?"

"Eyes on the road, Jethro," she said, highly amused.

"Simple question."

"I can't believe this. You're sitting there asking me the exact same question you asked me last month and you're _still_ getting it wrong. They're called _kegels_. Kegels, Jethro. _Ke-gels_. Kegels."

"I love kegels."

"Of course you do. You don't have to _do_ anything."

"_Come on_, you love them too."

"Not as much as _you_."

"_You used me as a guinea pig in Posita-_ "

"Don't wanna go there right now," she sing-sang.

Reaching across to place a hand across his mouth, and dropping it again when he placed a kiss to the inside of her palm.

"You love them too."

"Truthfully? I hurt for days afterwards."

"But you love them," he insisted.

Jen laughed.

"Is there ever a time when you _don't_ have sex on the brain?" she asked in mock exasperation.

"Nope. You?"

Jen smiled indulgently as she stretched out against her seat, but didn't pursue the subject.

* * *

_**The Willard Hotel**_

_**Washington, D.C.**_

_**0630**_

The sound of the ringing phone jolted Svetlana from sleep.

"Sveta .."

She pushed herself up against the headboard and snapped the light on; all the feelings of dread she'd harboured over the past two weeks melting away in an instant.

He sounded exhausted but she knew that if he was calling her then he must be out of the hot zone.

It meant he was safe – and that was all that mattered.

"Are you still staying till the eleventh?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"I miss you."

The words tumbled out; her heart beating double time at the prospect of seeing him again soon.

"I miss you, too. I'll call you when I know what flight I'm going to be on, my love."

* * *

_**Naples Field Office**_

_**1800**_

William Decker paced anxiously up and down in his office, reading and rereading the latest reports from NATO.

Although Jenny was not supposed to be anywhere near Aleknisac, nothing was a given in a war zone.

And that was before one took Jethro's total penchant for ignoring orders into consideration.

He looked the report over again, and then at his watch.

Another twelve hours until check in.

Until he knew for sure that she was safe.

* * *

_**Import/Export Charity Event Reception**_

_**The grounds of the Fairmont Hotel, Washington D.C.**_

_**1600**_

"I didn't get a chance to tell you this earlier, Natasha," Ludlow Lipari said, "but you look absolutely stunning."

Svetlana blushed a little, and smiled graciously.

"Champagne?" Lipari said as he stopped a waiter in his path.

"Please."

He was just picking a flute off the man's tray when a woman armed with a huge camera passed by.

"Martha!" he exclaimed as he reached out to touch her arm.

"Ludlow!" The woman said with a broad smile. "Just the man I was looking for."

"Covering the event for _The Times_?"

"Yes. I was hoping I could get a quote or two from you."

"How about a quote and a photo?" Ludlow asked with a wink at Svetlana.

"Great," Martha said as she stepped backwards and trained her lens on them.

Ludlow brought his champagne flute up against Svetlana's and put his other arm around her waist.

"Dinner later?" he whispered just before the shutter on Martha's camera clicked.

* * *

_**Woods outside Ljubenić, Kosovo**_

_**2330**_

Gibbs' eyes were drawn from the map by the jerking movement of Jenny's head against his thigh. His flashlight was on its lowest setting, but he could still make out the rapid eye movement

The anguished look on her face told him the dream wasn't pleasant.

Trailing his fingers through a loose strand of hair, he smiled at the thought of how pissed she was going to be when she realized that he'd let her sleep through her watch; even as he wondered absently what she could be dreaming about.

He went back to planning the route they would take in the morning, but a few moments later a moan escaped Jen's lips and the look of anguish intensified.

"Jen! Jenny!"

She sat up with a jerk to find Jethro wrapping his arm around her.

"Bad dream," he said as she sank her chin into his shoulder and let him hold her. "It's okay."

As she pulled away slightly, she was struck by the urge to tell him that it wasn't okay.

She struggled to remember a time in the past two years when the dream hadn't been a part of her life – and found that she couldn't. It had started a few weeks after her father's death, but she'd been having it a lot a lot more frequently since their op in Marseille.

It was as debilitating as it was unsettling.

A message from her subconscious that she was doing nothing to move ahead and get to the bottom of her father's murder.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

The look of concern on his face tripped the guilt circuit in her brain.

Moving ahead would mean leaving Jethro behind – and she couldn't contemplate such a thing at the moment.

As he continued to look at her she felt fear start to consume her, and all she wanted was to feel safe - the only way she knew how. She tuned out the voice in her head that whispered loudly that sooner or later she was going to have to make that move; that she was compounding her failure every time she used her body to stop him from asking questions.

"Jethro," she breathed against his cheek in a deep husky tone that she knew he'd respond to as she brushed the back of her hand against his other one.

When he caught her fingertips between his teeth and bit down on them gently she ran an open mouth against the side of his neck and repeated his name.

Knowing that he wouldn't need more encouragement than that.

"Think there's enough lateral space?" she mumbled against his mouth.

"Lateral's not as important as vertical", he mumbled back. "And the vertical's going to have to do."

"At least it's not the cinquecento," she said with a laugh as she thought of her little car back in Naples which Gibbs could barely fit into.

"So about those kegels?"

"Not telling. If we get arrested for indecent exposure you're dealing with it."

"Arrested by whom? The mountain lions?" he asked with a chuckle.

He'd camouflaged the car to the best of his ability. Even if anyone did pass by, they wouldn't know they were there.

"Fair enough," she replied.

Caressing his cheek once before her mouth locked hungrily with his.

He didn't question the way her fingers held his face as she kissed him, although he did register an edge to her that hadn't been there the last time they'd made love. But in the semi-darkness, the predatory look on her face at such close range was enough to drive any kind of thought from his head, and he watched with a dry mouth as one by one the buttons on her sweater came undone.

She'd unhooked her bra before going down for her nap, and now the cotton cloth hung loosely over her breasts.

Inviting him to touch.

He smirked as he pulled the garment down over her shoulders, pushed her against the passenger door, and locked her arms at her sides; knowing how much she disliked being unable to touch.

He brought his lips to her right breast. Just barely caressing the flesh. Laving a nipple that pebbled in response, before latching onto it and crushing it between his tongue and upper lip.

Jen gasped but he held her in place.

"Those kegels?"

"Let me go and you can find out. _Better_," she enunciated as he did so, "but not good enough" she added as he struggled to remove his pants and underwear. "Just to be clear, I don't want the stick shift up my butt and there's not enough room back _there_."

Gibbs took a look at the back seat and then pulled a sleeping bag from it. As he stuffed it inbetween the front seats and padded the shift stick, he looked up and said, "how's that?"

"Barbarian!"

"Yeah well .." He extended a hand towards her and shimmied her panties down her legs. Running that same hand along her inner thighs as he pushed her seat as far back and as it would go with the other.

With a small grunt and a fair amount of difficulty, he manoeuvred himself across onto her side and pulled her backwards onto his lap

Almost sure she was smiling when he twitched beneath her.

His own smile fading the moment she raised herself slightly and grazed the underside of his length.

"Mmmm" she murmured as he pushed her hair aside and dropped his mouth to her neck. Pushing her feet onto the floor and bracing herself against the dashboard for support as his tip brushed against her.

"Cozy."

"Cozy may be an understatement," she spluttered.

Barely able to breathe in the confined space, but not about to say so.

Jethro bit down on her shoulder blade gently as he inched past her opening.

Pressing forward gently.

There was just enough space for him to rock against her as he gave her time to adjust.

Shallow motions.

A slip and slide that built her up slowly even if his body clamoured for fast and furious thrusts. But he knew to bide his time, and his body's protests stopped the moment she clamped around him like a vise.

"Every day," she whispered. "Religiously."

"God, Jen," he mumbled as she started to contract seriously around him.

Tightening and releasing in waves of intensity that made him incoherent as he attempted to stave off the onslaught.

"Jeth -"

He reached round to touch her, almost sure it was his cue to do so; counting two hard rubs before she sucked him over the edge.

* * *

_**Outside Svetlana's room**_

_**The Willard hotel, Washington D.C.**_

_**2130**_

Ludlow Lipari did not hold his liquor well.

He had become more and more suggestive as the evening had worn on, and frankly he was beginning to get on her nerves.

"You know that's a fabulous piece," he said as he brushed her clavicle with a fingertip and completely missed the necklace.

"Thank you," Svetlana said as she shifted slightly away from him.

"Aren't you going in invite me in for a nightcap?" he asked as she turned away and inserted her key into its slot.

"It's getting late, Ludlow, and I have a long day ahe-"

She froze as she felt his fingers caress her hair and then run down the contours of her off-the-shoulder dress.

"I'm really not taking no for an answer, Natasha."

Although he was a fairly thin man, she was no match for his body weight once he thrust all of it up against her back and pushed the door handle down.

They stumbled into the bedroom, but before she could so much as gain a foothold he had her up against the wall.

Gripping her tightly by the arms and trying to kiss her.

"Ludlow, please stop."

Despite all of her training she knew there was very little she could do without provoking an international incident – and she couldn't risk that kind of scrutiny.

"I want you," he slurred as he bunched up her dress and insinuated a hand between her thighs.

Svetlana stepped outside her sense of revulsion for a moment and willed herself not to react. She searched for Anatoly in her mind, and when she'd found him visualized herself crawling into him for safekeeping.

A few moments later her phone rang – and she screwed her eyes shut against the knowledge that she had no choice but to let it ring.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's notes:**_

I have decided to finish this story. The epilogue has been haunting me since the end of May 2011, and I really need to write it. But you can't have an epilogue for an unfinished fanfic – so I guess we're about to find out whether I still remember how to write plot-driven stories. It's quite a daunting prospect, so please bear with me. There are two or three oneshots that still need to be incorporated, but from hereon out it's primarily new material.

On April 1st, 1999, police and paramilitary forces entered _Ljubenić_ in Kosovo. Escape proved impossible for most. A huge section of the male population was massacred, the remaining villagers were forced to leave the village, and their houses were torched.

As we've said on other occasions, there are time differences between Europe and the United States.

* * *

_**Moscow, Russia**_

_**1700**_

Yuri Petrov traced a finger down the spine of the woman in bed with him.

"Mmmm .." she said as she turned to face him.

"That was quite the siesta," he said as he wrapped a hand around her buttocks and drew her to him.

"What time is it?" She craned her neck to look at the clock on the bedside table. "_Oh_."

"Yes, _oh_." He flashed a smile at her and went back to nuzzling her neck.

"I should at least put in an appearance at work, don't you think?" she said as she tried to get out of bed.

"I _think_ I'd like to hear a different inflection in that _oh_."

"I really should go .." she hesitated at the edge of the mattress.

"I can be very persuasive .."

The woman smiled and lay back on the bed; her hands folded behind her head.

"Well then persuade me, Dimitri. Work can wait."

* * *

_**Dulles International Airport, Washington DC**_

_**1135**_

She was in his arms before he could retrieve his holdall from the baggage claim.

"Anatoly .." She pressed a kiss to his mouth and hugged him tightly.

He looked happy to see her for a split second – almost as though seeing there had uplifted his spirits – and then his eyes darkened and he turned away from her to pick up his bag.

"Do you have a car?"

"No. I came by taxi."

"We need a car," he said as he pushed past the people next to them and headed towards the car rental desks.

Svetlana hurried after him, every one of her senses telling her that something was very wrong.

* * *

_**Forty miles from Ljubenić, Kosovo**_

_**1720**_

"Any luck?"

"No." Gibbs kicked one of the front tyres viciously and then tossed an oily rag at the engine block in defeat.

"So what now?"

"Forty minutes till check-in," he replied as he checked his watch.

"We can't just sit here, Jethro."

It had been a huge strain to get the car off the road when it had ground to a halt several hours earlier – and the prospect of another night in the woods wasn't particularly appealing.

"No we can't. We turn back."

"To Ljubenić ?"

"It's our safest bet at this point, Jen. You saw for yourself .."

Jen swallowed hard. They'd been in the village before getting on the road that morning, and she'd seen the horrors of war first hand. But she could see his point. It was unlikely anything else would be happening there for a very long time and was, therefore, their best option.

"How far?"

"Thirty-five miles. Maybe forty."

"Just as well I packed sensible shoes then."

"For a change," Jethro said with a chuckle.

Jen smiled, but there was a little knot of anxiety in her stomach. Forty miles was pretty far on foreign soil in darkness. With luck they wouldn't run across any of the unsavoury characters Kosovo was currently teeming with.

* * *

_**The Willard Hotel, Washington DC**_

_**1400**_

Anatoly skulked from one room to the other of the junior suite. Communing more with the liquid at the bottom of his glass than with the woman in front of him.

"Interpol has issued a warrant for my arrest," he said quietly, just as Svetlana felt she couldn't take any more of the silence. "In Belgrade."

Her hand flew to her mouth - the implications of this too scary to contemplate.

"Have you heard anything from Sergei?" he asked a few moments later.

"Yes."

"When?"

"He came to see me before I left Paris."

"And?"

"He was angry. He knew where you were. He said he wanted to talk to you when you came back. He .. "

She trailed off, and Anatoly closed the distance between them in less than two steps and took her by the shoulders.

"What else did he say? Sveta! What did he say?"

"He asked me where my loyalties lay."

Anger flashed across his face as his fingers dug into her shoulders.

"And what did _you_ say?"

"I didn't say _anything._ What was there for me to say? I didn't even know where you were until he told me."

"I was trying to _protect_ you," he spat.

"You left me wide open."

Anatoly took a staggering step back.

"Why are you attacking me?"

"I'm not attac -" Svetlana threw her hands up in the air and then turned away from him to pour a drink for herself.

"Sveta .." She slowly looked round, responding instinctively to the quieter tone.

As he put his hands on her forearms she winced, and then slowly raised her right hand to his face.

"You're tired, my love. Get some rest and then we'll figure out what to do about Sergei."

"Come to bed with me," he said. Pushing her unexpectedly against the wall and pressing a hard kiss to her lips.

"I have some work to do," she said as she sidled out of his grasp. She winced again as she did so, and this time it didn't escape his notice."I have to give that talk tomorrow. But you go ahead."

Anatoly placed another kiss to her mouth, and retreated to the bedroom.

"Is something else the matter, Sveta?" He came back out and looked at her long and hard.

"No."

He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew she was lying.

"Please, come to bed."

He reached for her but she evaded his grasp.

"I really have to finish my speech," she said as she headed for the desk.

He waited until she was seated and then started to pick up papers strewn all over it at random.

Among them was a cutting from the _The Times_.

He peeled off a post-it note which said _Thank you for a wonderful evening_, and looked closely at the photograph embedded in the article.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Svetlana.

"Who's this?" He tossed the post-it note in front of her and watched her reaction to it.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was revulsion.

"Someone on the organizing committee," she replied nonchalantly.

Too nonchalantly, he decided.

"Where's his other hand?" he asked as he indicated the photo.

"What?" She looked up at him, confused.

"Where is his other hand?" he repeated, his voice cold .

For a moment Svetlana was swept back into that moment in time. To the feel of Ludlow Lipari's hand on her bottom. To the sense of dread that she had felt even at that early stage in the evening.

She shrugged.

"Did he bring you back to the hotel?" His voice sounded deadlier with every sentence.

Svetlana considered lying. She had hoped to break the news some other way - and preferably not at all - but clearly that wasn't going to happen now.

"Yes he did."

"Did you invite him in here?"

"He invited himself," she said slowly as she stood from the desk.

"Did he touch you, Sveta?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

She could only hope to stave off the inevitable, she thought as she turned away from him. She had bruised more than she thought possible - and it wouldn't be long before he saw the proof of another man all over her.

Anatoly reached for her roughly, and a small mewl of pain escaped her lips.

"Take off your clothes," he hissed.

"Anatoly, please … not now. Get some rest. We'll talk later."

It took him all of five seconds to rip the buttons off her blouse, and a further two to see the bruising on her arms. He knew she could have taken him out with her eyes closed, if she'd wanted to – and the look on her face told him exactly why she hadn't.

It made him sick to his stomach.

Anger and frustration collided head on in his system as he struggled to contain his emotions.

"Did he hurt you?"

He wasn't even sure he wanted to know the answer, but the question tumbled out anyway.

"No."

He hated that he couldn't tell if she was lying.

He paced around the room, searching for the right venting words, until finally he stood in front of her again.

"If he hurt you, I _will_ kill him."

* * *

_**Ljubenić, Kosovo**_

_**1805**_

"That was quick," Jen said as Gibbs stuffed the satellite phone into his bag.

"Simple orders."

"Which are?"

"Lie low. _No Fly_ order in effect, so the only way in and out is by car. We don't have one anymore so we've been told to lie low."

"Pacci and Callen?"

"Closer to the border. Already pulled. And Zhukov's fallen off the radar. Next check-in is in forty-eight hours."

"We need to find somewhere to stay."

"Yep. Lets go. We need to keep moving, Jen."

* * *

_**NCIS Field Office, Naples**_

_**1900**_

Decker rubbed a hand across his face – not at all pleased with the fact that Jen was out in ravaged countryside in the dead of night.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it, either.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the ringing phone.

Petrov.

He hadn't been expecting to hear from him quite so soon, and he hoped it was good news.

As he picked up, the Russian's voice floated down the line at him – telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I'm in."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:**

Serbians are famous for distilling liquor at home, so what Gibbs has done here is by no means a stretch. Although most people associate the word _moonshine_ with illegally-produced corn whisky, it is in fact _any_ illegally-produced distilled liquor. Most countries have their own version – made from anything from the sap of palm trees to stale bread.

_Šljivovica_ is what they make in Serbia – from plums.

When this chapter opens, Jenny and Gibbs have been staying at an abandoned farmhouse they came across on the outskirts of Ljubenić in Kosovo for several days.

This is one of the old oneshots I mentioned in yesterday's chapter ... with some new material inserted midway.

* * *

**__****A farmhouse outside ****_Ljubenić, Kosovo_**

**__****April 10****_th_****_, 1999_**

**__****1130**

Jen couldn't believe she'd slept so late.

She leaned across the sink and opened the kitchen window before pulling a metal percolator out of a cupboard and filling it. When she'd set it on the stove top she made her way slowly down to the cellar.

Jethro was sitting in front of a few planks of wood serving as a workbench – turning a bottle of clear spirits in his hands.

She massaged his shoulders for a moment, and then pulled his head back into her abdomen. Running her fingers absently through his hair before bending down to press a kiss to his head.

"Morning ..." she said softly.

He reached behind his head and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her even closer. "Very _good_ morning."

"Coffee's on."

"Uh-huh," he replied. Too distracted by the fact that she'd moved to tracing the outline of his ear.

"Are we going to drink it?" she asked as she looked at the bottle. "Or just admire it."

He turned to look up at her, but gave her only a smirk and a lifted eyebrow.

"You think I can't handle my liquor?" she asked with feigned indignation.

He raised the bottle to her eye level as if offering it to her, and his smirk turned into a grin.

"I don't know," he teased. "Can you?"

"One way to find out," she said as she took the bottle and popped the cork.

He stared at her for a moment, wondering if she understood just how much kick the stuff had. When he decided she didn't, he placed his hand over hers.

Forestalling the drink.

"Easy, Jen." He turned completely. Put his other arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. "Too early in the day to drink."

Her eyes danced as she recorked the bottle and placed it on the wood behind him. Smiling against his mouth as he twitched ever so slightly beneath her before hugging her to him tightly.

"It has to be five o'clock somewhere in the world, Jethro. Unless there's something else on your mind .."

The words, whispered against his mouth, made him smile. The twitch became a little bit more pronounced as he rubbed a hand across her shoulders. Jen pulled back a little so she could watch as she shifted her bottom against him. Letting him know she was willing if that's what he wanted. Although his response was immediate, she saw it in his eyes before his free hand pulled her mouth back to his. The kiss was more intense. His tongue flitted across her lips, and the hand on her back felt heavier, more insistent, as his hips thrust against her from below. As her mouth opened to him, his hand left her head and drifted to her knee. Rubbing gently. Seeking something that didn't need verbalization. Her legs spread slightly, seemingly of their own accord, and as his tongue slid into her mouth, his hands grasped her strongly. His breathing was deeper and she knew his growing erection had to be painful, positioned as she was against him.

So she cupped his face and rested her forehead against his.

"Coffee?"

Jethro smiled as he nuzzled her.

Enjoying the intimacy without pressure – and the promise of more later.

"Yeah."

He followed her up the stairs. Content to sit at table and watch her pour out the coffee, and even more content to watch her drink it.

"What?" she asked when he'd stared at her for a long moment.

"Nothin'."

"It doesn't look like _nothin'_," she said in imitation as she pressed a kiss to his lips, picked up his empty cup, and walked towards the sink.

"What's it look like then?"

"Don't know what it _looks_ like," she said as he crowded her by the sink, "but it definitely _feels_ like _somethin'._"

"Oh yeah?" he drawled as he turned her around.

He kissed her again. Gentle and coaxing where before he'd been forceful. His tongue teased, begging her to play with him, and his hands ran everywhere until they skimmed her buttocks. Bunching and kneading as he pulled her into him.

"Still feel like _somethin'_?" he asked as he pushed her against the kitchen counter.

"Is that an invitation, Jethro?" she purred as she wound her arms around his neck and rubbed herself wantonly against him.

"Wasn't aware you needed one."

She threw back her head and laughed, and as he let the sound wash over him he had the strong desire to make her laugh more often.

"Saw some rope downstairs. Been thinkin' about putting a swing on that old tree out there. Whad'ya think? Want a swing?"

"A swing," she clarified.

"Yeah."

"Whatcha gonna do? Use a tyre from the dead car?"

"Walk forty miles there and back? Nah. You can straddle a plank. No?" he asked when she didn't react the way he thought she would.

Jen's face turned serious for a moment.

Her mind instantly supplied all sorts of reasons - including airstrikes - why it wasn't a good idea, and she couldn't wrap her head around why Jethro wasn't thinking operationally.

"Who are you and what have you done with Jethro?" she asked deadpan.

He chuckled. "So. Swing? No swing?" he pushed.

"You just wanna push me around," she said with a laugh as she punched him lightly in the chest.

"Yeah, Jen." There was something about her voice which made him reach for her again, and he wound a hand in her hair and pulled her head backwards. Looking intently at her before placing a hard kiss to her mouth.

She'd just raised her hand to his face again when her stomach let out a low grumble. Jethro stopped mid-kiss and grinned at her.

"Picnic?" he said with a bright smile.

"_If_ you bring the paint thinner."

"Cow shed in ten?"

"We're having a picnic in the _shed?_ What happened to the great outdoors?"

"Thought you didn't want to be visible," he returned.

Confusing her all over again. Making her wonder if he'd been testing her.

"You need ten minutes to go downstairs and get a bottle?" she called as he headed for the cellar steps.

"Can't be without me that long?" he tossed over his shoulder before he disappeared down them.

"Dream on, Jethro .." she said as she opened the fridge and pulled out whatever looked edible.

* * *

_**The Willard Hotel, Washington D.C.**_

_**0600**_

As she lay on her back, studying the miniscule cracks in the ceiling, Svetlana worried about what was coming down the line.

Despite the fact that Sergei had not attempted to contact her in the United States, she had no doubt he knew about the warrant issued for Anatoly's arrest.

She knew he was awake, and reached for his hand and squeezed it.

The return squeeze was tepid, at best.

"This is too long."

"What?" He couldn't possibly be saying what she thought he was.

"Next time it will have to be a shorter trip," he growled as he rolled over to face the window.

Svetlana felt her chest tighten. She knew he was angry. Anything work-related always turned his focus inwards and obliterated anything but what _he_ was feeling. Over the past few days he'd said several unkind things – which she'd let slide because she knew he was frustrated and angry - but in all of their time together Anatoly had _never_ turned his back on her in bed.

As she turned to face the wall, deep sadness rippled through her - and try as she might, she couldn't shed the thought that they were living on borrowed time.

In all possible senses.

* * *

**__****The farmhouse outisde Ljubenić, Kosovo**

_**1230**_

"You feelin' cold?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

"Then it must be me," he said proudly.

Jen followed his admiring gaze and laughed as she caught sight of her nipples straining against her top.

"Is that all you think about?"

"Hey .. I'm not the one having a _reaction_."

Jen grinned and scooted a little closer.

"Want to have your own reaction?" she said suggestively as she pushed him downwards.

"Suggestin' a roll in the hay, Agent Shepard?" he asked as he reached into the nearest pile and picked up a handful.

"Ugh," she cringed. "Get it away from me!"

"Aw come on, Jenny," he said as he pinned her down and sprinkled it over her. "A little straw never hurt anyone."

"Depends who's peed in it. Besides," she said as she pushed him gently aside and sat up, "it's time to sample the moonshine. Pour already," she said as she held out a cup.

"You're sure you're ready for this .."

"As ready as you are."

"You're not me."

"Chauvinist."

"Yeah," he said with a grin as he poured.

Jen took a long sip and had to fight the urge to spit it out.

"This tastes worse than antifreeze," she said when she could talk.

"You know what antifreeze tastes like?" he asked in amusement as he sent a long swallow of liquid down his throat.

Jen laughed, but as they sipped their eyes locked - and anything she might have said died in her throat.

There was a sense of peace adherent to the way they grinned at one another over the rims of their glasses, but Jethro found himself watching and waiting for the moment the drink went to her head.

By all accounts it wouldn't be more than a minute or two.

Tops.

"God, Jethro, this tastes worse than that godawful thing you had me drink in the Cz -" She stopped abruptly and looked away. Realizing that she still couldn't think of that night without a sense of fear. This day was too perfect to spoil and she didn't want bad memories to impinge on it.

She took a huge gulp and spluttered on the burn.

"Easy, Jen," Jethro said warily.

"Why?" she asked suddenly. "Afraid I'll get drunk and jump you?"

And there it was. The slight bawdiness to her tone that told him she was feeling the kick.

"You jump me all the time," he said with a smirk.

"Do not," she said as she pushed him onto his back again and sidled up to him.

"I'm a poor defenceless man," he said as she ran a fingernail down his chest.

"I'll give you defenceless," she purred as she cupped him once over his sweats and then slipped her hand underneath them.

He enjoyed the sweet torture just long enough to give her the illusion that she was in control. And then in one swift move he flipped her over.

"Wanna talk about being defenceless?" he asked as he pinned her down and started to tickle her.

"I've got a pretty effective knee," she half laughed as she struggled to move it.

"Gotta be co-ordinated to use it," he said with a grin.

"I'm co-ordinated."

"Okay … say Šljivovica."

"_What?_"

"Šljivovica . Say Šljivovica."

"Šilj .."

"_Šlji - vovica_. See, not co-ordinated."

"Šivlojica." She listened to herself for a moment and then her eyes widened. "I'm drunk."

Jethro grinned.

"You bastard."

"Me? I warned you to take it easy. You went at it like a steamroller."

"Are you going to take advantage of me?" she asked suggestively as she reached between them.

"Want me to?"

"Hell yes."

* * *

**Author's note:**

This is still dedicated to **MatteAM. **And if anyone is wondering whether you can get smashed _that_ fast on moonshine, the answer is yes. The stuff is lethal.


	4. Chapter 4

_**The farmhouse outside Ljubenić, Kosovo**_

_**April 13th, 1999**_

_**1230**_

Lunch in the shed had become part of their routine.

"How much longer will it be, do you think?" Jen asked as she put all of the unclean utensils into the cup she'd been drinking from.

"Worn you out, have I?" Jethro asked as they walked out into the sunshine with their arms wound around one another.

Jen bumped his hip and laughed heartily.

"No."

"Yeah I have."

"No you haven't."

"Admit it, Shepard."

"I _like_ being here with you. Even this _mop_ is growing on me," she added as she raised her right hand and ruffled his hair.

Jethro muttered something under his breath which she didn't quite catch.

"I'd like to sit outdoors for a while." She settled on a bench hewn out of a tree log a few feet away from the house.

Gibbs looked up at the sky – clearly listening for aircraft - and then sat beside her.

"And now?"

"We can discuss what we're going to do next."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows suggestively at her, and Jen rolled her eyes.

"_After_ we stop that headache you've got coming on."

"You can't possibly know I have a headache coming on, Jethro. Come on .."

"Your left eye's lower than your right. You always complain after that happens. Like I've told you before, _I pay attention_."

"With all this attention-paying, it's incredible that you have not one but _two_ ex-wives," she said with a small snort.

The comment surprised him. He wondered whether he had ever paid that kind of attention to Ginger and Diane, and stopped himself before his thoughts could turn to the woman he _had _paid attention to.

"How's this? You _discuss_, I'll take care of the incoming headache."

He didn't give her time to argue, but instead turned her away from him on the bench.

The feel of his digits circling the top of her head made her falter, and all of a sudden her mind was blank.

"Thought you wanted to talk .."

He reached round and unbuttoned the blouse she was wearing. Giving himself better access to her skin as he massaged her upper arms and worked his way to her shoulders and neck. Gently working tension out of muscles before his hands slipped under her hair again. She let out a small sigh as he worked back up to the top of her head and then rubbed her temples. When he was back at her neck again he could feel that some of the tension had already seeped away, and used that knowledge to apply a bit more pressure.

"You've rendered me speechless."

"That'll be the day .."

"God ..." she murmured as her head dropped forward and he rubbed his thumbs up the sides of her spine all the way up to the base of her skull.

When had he divested her of her blouse?

The warm breeze caressed her skin, but he knew it wasn't what was raising the goosebumps on it. He licked the side of her neck, wondering how long it would take her to register that something had changed. He smiled when he felt the muscles contract, and tugged slowly at the straps of her bra; sweeping the juncture between neck and shoulders with his lips and dropping just a hint of teeth into the bargain.

"Jethro .."

"How's the head?" he whispered as he slid a calloused palm down over a breast before rolling a nipple between his fingers.

Jen recognized the raspy hoarseness in his voice for what it was. He only sounded like this when he was very aroused. She smiled as she gave herself over to the awareness that she liked the way being in his arms made her feel. That she enjoyed the power and gentleness which co-existed in his strong hands.

His fingers ran easily over her skin. Travelling down her back until they reached her buttocks.

As he pulled her onto him she wound her arms around the back of his neck and pressed into him. For a moment she wasn't sure which one of them had shuddered – but it wasn't a matter of any importance.

"Maybe we should take this inside," she said as she took a look up at the sky herself.

He led her inside without a word - his eyes lingering over every curve, every hollow, every inch of her skin with a hunger that she recognized and responded to.

"Jenny .." he murmured as she lowered herself onto him – and that version of her name made her insides flutter, because he only used it rarely. But the feel of being skewered was too intense and the hands at her hips were urging her on. In the semi-darkness his grunts matched her short, sharp moans with each movement they made and it became increasingly difficult to distinguish or even care where one ended and the other began.

As he felt his climax build, the only thing he could think of was that he hadn't savoured her enough; that this was going to be over too soon. Looking for a reprieve, he flipped them over gently and held her eyes for a moment before reaching down to kiss her. She snaked her arms around his neck, and he found himself murmuring her name again as he began to move slowly in small concentric circles; easing himself gently against the inner walls encasing him.

Deepening the kiss when she flowed with him. Emotion swirling within the cadence of their gentle lovemaking - making the buildup intense and a lot more emotional than he expected

He'd lost count of how many times they'd made love since Marseille – but every time they hit this level of emotional intensity, he was taken by surprise. Floored. Unsure what to say. What to feel, even.

Her soft "_Jethro_" neutralized the fear.

He managed one brief look at her – and then the sound of his name spilling from her lips once more was enough to send him over the edge.

As his heart rate began its trek to normality, the tingle of electricity lingered. The sensation of her damp back against his chest felt good. Warm. Secure. A welcome reminder that he was learning to live in the moment.

Almost as though she sensed his thoughts, she looked at him over her shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yes."

He propped himself up on an elbow and pulled the sheet over her recumbent form. Enjoying the raspy sound it made as it grazed her skin.

"Nap?" she asked as she shifted a little closer.

Jethro smiled and watched her for a while, before dropping an almost possessive kiss to her shoulder and starting to run his fingers through her hair.

Eventually he settled onto his back and permitted himself a smug smile. Letting the gentle susurration of her even breathing wash over him.

Knowing that it would lull him to sleep before long.

Three minutes, twenty seconds. The time he needed to spend running his hand through her hair before she drifted off. He had it down to an art.

It wasn't long before sleep claimed him too.

* * *

_**Lounge Bar of the Caravaggio Hotel**_

_**Naples, Italy**_

_**1300**_

Decker looked up just as the Russian walked into the room.

"Good to see you," Petrov said as he eased himself into an armchair.

Decker smiled. "Fancy," he said as he looked around.

"The lady has expensive tastes."

"Where is she, by the way?"

"Getting ready to go to lunch." Petrov looked at his watch. "She'll be down for a drink in about fifteen minutes."

"Better make it quick then," Decker said as he leaned forward expectantly.

Petrov removed an envelope from an inner pocket in his jacket and laid it on the table between them.

Decker's hand hovered over it before he said, "you're absolutely sure .."

"Yes."

Decker slipped the envelope into his own jacket and downed the remainder of his drink.

"I'll be in touch."


	5. Chapter 5

_**The farmhouse outside Ljubenić, Kosovo**_

_**April 14th, 1999**_

_**0330**_

She looked debauched, Gibbs thought to himself as he watched her pull on one of his crumpled shirts and pad towards the stairs. The shirt hung just low enough to cover her thighs as he watched her from the back, and he was sure that when came back upstairs he'd discover she hadn't bothered to do up the buttons.

She walked back to him with two steaming cups of coffee in hand a short while later, and he found himself smiling again as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

They'd never left bed the previous afternoon.

Making love, dozing, making love again; a cyclical lust-fest that had robbed them of a good night's sleep. They'd fallen asleep at around midnight, and woken up again at three. Lying there, enjoying the pillow talk and the sound of each others' breathing, until Jen had mentioned the possibility of coffee – and reminded them both that they hadn't had anything to eat since lunchtime. They weren't particularly hungry, but the promise of fresh coffee was too good to pass up.

"Are you sore from lying in bed?" she asked as she took a sip from her cup and put it aside.

"Nah," he lied. Feeling her smile against his neck as her hands settled somewhere around his kidneys.

She applied just enough pressure to elicit a reaction, and he bit back a moan when her fingers skimmed the waistband of his boxers, and her nails grazed the exposed skin.

"Is it just me," she teased softly as she rubbed up against his front "or are we dealing with sexual tension here? _Again_. You're insatiable, you know."

"Me?" Jethro chuckled. "You're the one who keeps taking advantage of the poor scuttler."

"Do I need permission?"

Her lips were hovering over his now, and Jethro felt his heartbeat quicken as her breath flowed over his lips. She flicked her tongue out, lapping gently at his mouth, and he took his time with slow, sensuous kisses; finally running his tongue over her lips. As she opened her mouth, that one sip of coffee she'd had to drink assaulted his taste buds – drawing him in forcibly.

Without breaking the kiss, she pushed him onto the bed and straddled his thighs.

His eyes slid shut as she dropped to her knees.

"Don't close your eyes. I want you to watch me."

Her voice was low and sent a shiver of anticipation running down his spine to settle in his groin, adding to the pressure that was already steadily building there. He opened his mouth to respond, but her hands skimming down his sides while her eyes were locked on his, made every coherent thought fly out of his head. She gave his boxers a tug and he lifted his hips, helping her as she pulled them down his thighs. Her mouth covered his skin just below his navel and the almost pathetic whimper he let out made her grin against him. She moved her mouth lower; trailing hot open mouth kisses down his stomach and feeling his muscles clench under her touch. Her breath flowed across his skin again, heightening every sensation. As she ran her tongue along the underside of him, he had to force himself to keep his eyes open.

She drew back for a moment, and despite his best intentions he reached out and started to stroke himself.

He tried to talk again, an incoherent apology on his lips, only to find his voice dying in his throat at the look in her eyes. The desire had been augmented with a hint of wickedness as she stood up and shimmied out of her panties. Watching him watch her. She straddled his hips once again, rubbing herself against him. The heat from her body was almost unbearable and his hands wound around her arms and pulled her down on him; eliciting a groan from both of them, even as her eyes went wide with pleasure. She wound her legs and arms around him, pulling him firmly against her, until he could feel her heartbeat through his chest. Their movements were slow. Languid. Not enough and almost too much. She lifted her head from his shoulder and locked eyes with him, her breathing becoming more erratic.

Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as her eyes silently asked him if her was with her. His answer was to pull her mouth towards him and swallow the moan that escaped her as she shuddered above him.

Jethro raised his head from the pillow as the muffled sounds of a car engine rumbled on the dirt road close to the house. He glanced at the windows - wanting to make sure that the heavy blankets they'd put there were still blocking out the light - and then lowered his head back again to hear what Jen was saying to him.

"You do realize we've done _nothing_ this week but - "

"Mmhmm .." He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"Sleepy?"

"Nope. You?"

"No." Jen gave a throaty laugh and sighed almost inaudibly as he started to run his fingers through her hair. "But keep that up and I will be, shortly."

"Want me to stop?"

"God, no."

She felt another kiss being dropped, and smiled.

"Jethro .." Now was as good a time as ever to bring this up, she decided. It had been on her mind since they'd left Naples, and she was going to have to broach the topic sooner or later.

"Mmm?"

"I've asked Pat to move her things into my apartment."

"Good."

She rolled over onto her back and looked quizzically at him.

"That's it?"

"I think it's a great idea."

Jen found she was at a loss to describe why the empathy in his tone surprised her.

"I thought you couldn't stand her."

"Things change."

Now she was intrigued.

"Anything I should _know_ about you and Pat?" she asked with a laugh.

"She needs a friend, Jen. I don't think she has anyone but you."

"And how do _you_ know she needs a friend?" she asked as she poked him playfully in the chest.

Jethro looked pensive for a moment and then told her about finding Pat in the supply closet. What she'd said to him there and later, as he'd driven her home. He wanted to add that he'd pulled her file the next day, and that the details about her deceased daughter had created a bond between them that even Pat herself would never know about, but stopped short. He couldn't go there without exposing himself, and he didn't want to do that.

"She's hurting," Jen said as she placed her head on his chest.

"I think it's more than just hurting. I think her psyche's taken a beating."

"Her _psyche_?" Here eyes widened with mirth. "I thought you hated big words, Jethro .."

Jethro smiled but the smile didn't reach his eyes, and Jen had the strong sense of something which she couldn't quite identify lurking beneath the surface.

"I don't know what to do for her," she admitted. "She's .. changed. A lot."

"Not much you _can_ do, Jen. Just .. stay close."

"So you're okay with her moving in?" she double checked.

He had just opened his mouth to say _yes_ when there was a sound of glass shattering downstairs.

"Sshhhh .." Jethro pressed a finger to her lips and rose from bed. "Stay here," he whispered as he slipped into his clothes, turned off the light, and reached into the bedside drawer for his weapon.

He crossed the hall and moved noiselessly to the top of the stairwell.

There was movement in the kitchen. The sound of pots and pans being pushed aside in their respective cupboards.

_Looters._

It was mayhem in the countryside at the moment with so many abandoned farmhouses and homes. No other explanation made sense.

As he crept downstairs he took a quick look out of the nearest window.

A beaten up red hatchback.

The car he'd heard earlier.

Their ticket out of here.

Whoever it was clearly hadn't realized that the house wasn't empty – which led Gibbs to suspect that he was dealing with someone looking for easy access to valuables that could be stuffed into a duffel bag, not someone who had cased the place out in advance.

As he followed the intruder into the sitting room, he was relieved to find that he was only stalking a young boy. Sixteen. Maybe seventeen.

It wouldn't be that complicated to overpower him if need be.

Sensing another presence in the room, the youngster turned - and froze. Mesmerized by the opening of a gun barrel pointed at his face.

Gibbs motioned at him to turn and put his hands against the wall.

He patted down all of his pockets.

He felt the hairs rise at the back of his neck.

No keys - and yet there was a car outside.

Sounds of a scuffle upstairs shattered the tense moment, forcing Jethro's gaze upwards onto the ceiling. In the few seconds it took him to connect the godawful dots, the youngster turned, knocked him off balance, and bolted.

Jethro righted himself and ran for the stairs; his blood running cold at the anticipation of what lay in wait for him on the other side of the bedroom door.

"_Jen .._"

Her name was a silent scream on his lips as he flung himself over the coverlet, pulled a man roughly his size off her, and tackled him over the edge of the bed to the ground.

Pummelling him with adrenaline-infused rage until he registered that the man wasn't reacting.

At all.

He looked up at Jenny, who sat on the edge of the mattress staring at her bloodstained hands.

It took him a moment beyond that to realize that the blood wasn't hers and that she was holding a knife.

"Always carry a knife, right" she said shakily. "Rule number eight?"

"Nine." The relief washed over him as he reached for her. Wanting to assure himself that she was truly unhurt.

And then the urgency of the situation dawned on him.

They had no way of knowing where the younger man had gone. Or how long it would be before he was brave enough to come back looking for the companion who might well be an uncle, a cousin or even a father. Or even how many people he would bring with him.

He looked down at the body beneath him and saw the tell tale bulge of keys in the left pocket.

"We need to get out of here," he said as he yanked them out and reached for Jen's hand. "_Now_."

* * *

_**NCIS Field Office**_

_**Naples, Italy**_

_**1130**_

Decker looked on as Yuri Petrov paced up and down in his office.

"Well?" the Russian asked.

Decker took a deep breath and dialled an extension number.

"Come to my office. You _are_ one hundred percent certain about this .." he asked Petrov as he replaced the receiver.

"One hundred and ten. We might not get another chance like this."

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of the invitee.

"Have a seat," Decker said.

As Pat looked between both men, her eyes narrowed fractionally.

"I think I'll stand until I know what's going on."

Decker reached into a file. He looked Pat straight in the eye and slowly slid a photo of a brunette across the desk at her.

"Remember _her_?"

* * *

**Author's note:**

I am going out of state next week, and will work on the next installment while I am away.


End file.
